


office holiday party

by thewayofthemandalorian



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Christmas Party, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28393941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewayofthemandalorian/pseuds/thewayofthemandalorian
Summary: When Marcus Pike, object of your quiet affections, invites you as his plus-one to the FBI's holiday party, you have no idea how it is going to change things for the better.
Relationships: Marcus Pike/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	office holiday party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fromthedeskoftheraven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/gifts).



> Written for the Pedro Pascal 12 Days of Christmas Secret Santa over on tumblr. I love Marcus and I love Christmas and so I was very happy to write this for someone so lovely and kind about our favourite FBI agent. 
> 
> Warnings: Kissing, mutual pining. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @thewayofthemandalorian

“Are you sure it’s all right for me to come to the holiday party?” you asked, balancing your phone between your cheek and your shoulder. “I’m not technically FBI and I don’t want to intrude.”

Marcus frowned as he listened to you. It wasn’t the first time you had asked him if it was okay that you were his date. “I wouldn’t have asked you to be my plus-one to the Christmas party if I wasn’t sure. I want you.” Quickly, he realized his slip. “I want you there.”

You thought for a moment. You had only known Marcus for a year and a half, first meeting him when he transferred to Washington, D.C. as the new leader of the art department at the FBI headquarters. You were the official liason for the art department, working at the Smithsonian as a curator and exhibit director. Having gotten along well enough with the former art department director, Jim York, you and Marcus had hit it off almost immediately, becoming fast friends both at work and outside of work.

And you harboured the biggest crush on him that you had ever experienced.

It was embarrassing almost, the way that you admired him. You were a grown woman, established in your career and independent, yet you acted like a schoolgirl whenever he was around.

You had no idea that he had a crush on you, too. You thought that was the way Marcus worked. He had told you about his failed relationships. His broken marriage and his imploded, short-lived engagement shortly after you and he had truly become friends. It was an assumption you made, that he didn’t want to date anyone who was related to his work again, so you made an effort to keep your affections strictly platonic.

It wasn’t working.

But then he had asked you to the annual FBI staff Christmas party as his plus-one earlier this week and the way he had asked you made you wonder if you were wrong about your assumption…

“You can say no if you want to, I know it’s last minute, and you’re flying to Massachusetts on Saturday for Christmas with your family. But it would be nice to see you at the holiday party.” Marcus had been almost shy. It was endearing. You were so used to seeing Marcus jumping into things feet first.

You had hesitantly agreed, not being able to help feeling like an interloper. Jim had never invited you to the holiday party. Marcus had invited you the year before but it hadn’t worked out with your schedule. Your flight to your home state had been earlier on the same day that the party was.

But this year, with the way the days fell on the calendar, it made more sense for you to go home on a Saturday, so you had agreed.

And you wanted to go with him.

“What time are you picking me up?” you asked finally.

* * *

Shortly after five-thirty that evening, Marcus was ringing your doorbell. “It’s open!” you shouted as you swiped a glob of lipstick across your lips, checking your reflection in the mirror.

You were dressed casual enough that you wouldn’t be overdressed, but not too casual that you would look like a slob.

The door opened and a burst of cold air followed Marcus in with him. Instinctively, you shivered.

Marcus took you in. “Wow. You look … wow.”

He looked pretty _wow_ himself. His beard was trimmed short, his brown hair combed as neatly as possible (his cowlick could never be fully tamed). He was dressed in a similar casual-but-nice fashion. You tried not to stare at him too long.

“You look pretty wow yourself, Marcus.” You offered him a smile as you grabbed your coat from the hall closet and your purse from the entry hall table. You pulled your keys from your coat pocket. “Ready to go?” you said.

Marcus pulled his gaze from you. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

One of the many things that you loved about Marcus Pike was how _easy_ it was to talk to him. About any topic. He had been a bit closed-off when you first met him, still licking the wounds that his ex had left, but he was always friendly and kind. While you and the former art department leader had gotten along well enough, Marcus was different. A breath of fresh air.

As Marcus drove to the hotel where the party was being held, you chatted about your plans for Christmas. How you would be going to visit your family in Boston for about a week, your parents insisting that you stay with them.

Marcus in turn was going to his sister’s house. He and his brothers and sister all took turns hosting Christmas, and this year it was his sister Stacey’s turn. He was especially looking forward to it because his brother-in-law was a professional cook, and knew how to make the perfect spread for holiday or family gathering meals.

It turned out that you would both be back in town just before New Year’s Eve, Marcus noted.

* * *

The ballroom of the hotel was nicely decorated. It looked like something out of a movie.

“I feel underdressed,” you whispered in an undertone as you left your coat and bag at coat check.

Marcus reassured you. “Don’t worry. You’re the prettiest one here.”

You knew that it wasn’t just a platitude. Heat filled your cheeks and you couldn’t help your smile.

You and Marcus spent most of the first half-hour talking with various agents, mostly from the art department as you munched on appetizers.

As the evening progressed, you noticed a lot of agents from the art department smirking and smiling to each other as they saw you with Marcus. _What was up with that_? you wondered, but didn’t pay it any mind.

After returning from the restroom, you found Marcus standing just in the centre of the ballroom. _Was he waiting for you?_

As you joined him, you heard stifled snorts and giggles. “What is going on with your team, Marcus?” you asked. “They’ve been acting weird all night whenever they spot us together.”

What _was_ up was that they had a running bet on when the two of you would admit your very obvious feelings for one another. Neither you nor Marcus knew that.

It was at that moment that you glanced up and saw it.

 _Mistletoe_.

“Marcus.” You pointed upwards. He followed your gaze to the mistletoe.

You weren’t sure if it was the heat of the room or what it was, but Marcus’s face had suddenly tinged pink.

“We don’t have to -” you started.

Marcus shook his head. “I-It would be bad luck if we didn’t…” he reasoned. He stepped closer. Your breath hitched as his face inched closer to yours. “Unless you don’t want to?” he asked. He was still far enough away that he could back off without any incident.

You swallowed. “I want to,” you said, just loud enough for him to hear, nodding your head to fully affirm that it was something you wanted to do.

Marcus cupped your cheeks in his hands as he leaned in to kiss you.

The room melted away as his lips met yours. You had been expecting just a peck, or a quick graze of lips touching at most. But like most things with Marcus, he put a hundred percent into it, jumping in feet first. You kissed him back with as much intensity as he had, attempting to convey what hadn’t been said yet.

As he pulled back, he smiled bashfully at you. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted hoarsely.

“Me, too.”

You didn’t even notice the money changing hands between Agents Jackson and Rogers.

Marcus cleared his throat. “Are you ready to go home?” he asked. The party was winding down significantly.

You nodded. You needed to finish packing and think about that kiss and the look that had been on Marcus’s face when the two of you pulled back. What he had said.

The car ride home was silent. It wasn’t an awkward silence, rather a thoughtful one.

Just as Marcus’s car pulled up into your driveway he broke the silence. “I’m sorry if I pushed you or -”

“Marcus. I didn’t do anything at that party I didn’t want to.” You cut him off with a kiss. One that was private and not prompted by anything other than your want to kiss him again. Marcus gasped against your lips before kissing you back with a gentle passion.

Marcus stroked your cheek with his hand, whispering your name. “I like you a lot. And I want to get to know you better.”

“I want that, too,” you said.

Marcus considered for a moment. “You’re back on the twenty-ninth, right?”

You nodded. “In the afternoon,” you confirmed.

“Can I take you out for dinner? On a date?” he asked. He sounded shy, even though he already suspected what the answer would be.

You kissed his cheek. “I would love to.”

The two of you kissed one more time, wishing each other a Merry Christmas as you got out of the car, with the promise that you would text and call each other over the holidays until you saw each other again next week.

Truth be told, you were looking forward to your date with Marcus, and the promise of what it would bring, more than you were looking forward to the holidays.


End file.
